Bet you’ve always wanted to know what a purple dragon looks like.

You think that’s cute? You should see a team of 15 Purple Dragons all clustered around a soccer ball because they haven’t yet learned that in soccer you’re supposed to s-p-r-e-a-d   o-u-t and kick the ball to one another. But no, that’s not how the Purple Dragons roll. Purple Dragons all crowd around the ball and kick each other in the shins while squealing in delight. There is no better time for shin guards than in youth soccer.

Here is Zoe sizing up the competition and yelling for her team to do more shin kicking:

(Notice again the cluster of both Purple Dragons and Pink Princesses crowded around the poor, unsuspecting ball.)

The Purple Dragons kicked the Pink Princesses butts last night. More butt and shin kicking to come, as the season has just begun.

My recent absence from my blog has made people question my whereabouts. I left with the threat of running off to Hawaii with a musician. One friend/reader even asked the question: And judging by your lack of posts recently —- you really are gone? To which my answer is: No, but I wish. Nope, I’ve been here the whole time. At home. And stuff has been going on. And I’m going to throw it all in a pot and stir it around and make a post with semi-coherent results. Much like the dinner casserole on left-over night. The following post will contain bits of info about the following topics: the kids going back to school, my sister’s birthday movie night, my hormone-induced inability to stop laughing and/or crying about everything, an upcoming trip to Yellowstone, and my BFF’s brief return to Utah next weekend. I will throw in a few pictures for texture. Feel free to skip ahead to any parts that interest you.

The Kids Are Back to School!

This year Zoe is going to the local public elementary school with Jachin. We are temporarily done with the snobby private school thing… until the new baby is ready for preschool. The first day of school was exciting. Zoe picked out a few of her new duds to make a smashing entrance to her new school. Jachin picked out clothes that are almost too small for him which he’s had for several years. He didn’t put on a single new item of clothing, aside from perhaps fresh underwear. He tried to wear the shirt he wore on Sunday afternoon and then wore to bed Sunday night. He even tried to wear his too-small, mangled shoes from last year. I swear, I bought the boy new, correctly sized clothes. He just didn’t want to wear them. Which was fine. I was picking my battles that first morning of school, and clothing wasn’t one of those battles. One battle I did pick: the first day of school also happened to be trash pick-up day, and with 6 minutes to get out the door to school, Jachin still had not emptied the garbages and taken the can to the curb. Yeah, I picked that battle. And I stuck with it like a hard-nosed Army General.

Me: Jachin, you have got to empty trashes before you leave.

Jachin: Ugg, fine! (He grabs a trash bag and empties 4 of the 8 trash cans throughout the house. He then tries to take the bag out to the outside can.)

Me: Hold on, you didn’t get the downstairs trash.

Jachin: Ugg!! Fine!! (He drags the bag downstairs and slams doors and metal cans around as he empties the computer room trash. He then tries to take the bag outside.)

Me: You didn’t get the upstairs trash or the laundry trash.

Jachin: (with more slamming around of things) Since when do we have a laundry trash?!?

Me: Since we moved in a year and a half ago.

Jachin: Uggg!! Fine!!!

This went on until finally all trashes were empty and he was 20 minutes late for school. Not really… he got out the door on time. And I even got him to wear his new, non-toe-crushing shoes. But not before I got a picture of him wearing his old ones.

Here are my kiddies on the first day back to school:

 Tropic Thunder!!

For my sister Sam’s birthday, I told her I’d take her to dinner and a movie. After relentlessly telling her for days about how hilarious Tropic Thunder looked, she magically picked that as her birthday movie. Our little brother, Paul, went with us as well. We picked a theater that is out in the middle of nowhere and you have to have a special map to find the entrance to it. Hence, there is never anyone at this theater. You can show up on opening night of a show only 10 minutes before the previews start and get primo seats. The only other creatures who know about this theater? The cows in the pasture surrounding the theater. Occasionally they try to sneak in the back Exits to a show, but you just have to send them back outside with a swift kick to the udders. Even though it was completely unnecessary, we arrived 20 minutes before the movie began. We were the only people in the theater. I kid you not. There wasn’t even anyone at the ticket-ripper stand. We just walked in (after buying tickets, because we’re honest like that). We then decided it would be hilarious for us to take turns acting out scenes from the Tropic Thunder trailer at the front of the theater. I would record it all on the camera for the blog. Because nothing would be more hilarious than seeing me 6 months pregnant acting like Robert Downey Jr. acting like a black guy, right? But the theater lighting was too dim, and the camera wouldn’t pick up any picture. There was just a lot of audio of me and Sam and Paul laughing our freakin heads off at incoherent movie lines. It really was one of those times when you just had to be there. But we did get a few still shots of us:

I’m not sure why I was signaling for everyone to hang ten, but there it is.

Oh yeah, and the movie was funny, too. Surprisingly, the highlight of the movie was Tom Cruise, whom I absolutely can not stand. But he was almost unrecognizable, and his part of the sweaty, balding, meaty-handed movie exec was amazing… if not rather gross. Because I have issues with hairy, meaty hands. But his dancing skills are seriously something to watch, man.

A Camping We Will Go…

So what do you do when you don’t have any money to go on a big family vacation? You go camping at Yellowstone! I’m actually pretty excited because I’ve never been.  I’m not so excited about sleeping on the ground, but I’m uncomfortable no matter where I sleep, so it really doesn’t matter. We’re driving up this weekend and staying a couple of nights, along with Jon’s sister and her family. The compground where we’re staying has flushing toilets and showers, so it shouldn’t be too bad. If nothing else, the trip will yield some awesome photo ops: me pregnant, swollen, hot, and make-up-less standing next to a moose; me pregnant, swollen, hot, and make-up-less standing next to a geiser…

In BFF News:

Diana returns to Utah next weekend! Yay! Only for a couple of days, but I’ll take it! Pics are sure to be taken, and I will be crying, hugging her ankles when she tries to go back to the airport, but I’m excited.

One More Thing

Jon and I watched a fantastic movie last night. It’s called The Fall. And I mean, wow. Even Jon really liked it… and for those of you who know Jon, well, you know that he hates all movies. So the fact that he thought it was good means that it’s amazing. Just thinking about it makes me want to watch it again, because I’m sure there’s so much that I missed the first time through. If you get a chance to watch it, please-oh-please do.

In reality: I am 22 weeks pregnant, sleepy, counting down the days until school starts on one hand, and strapped for cash. We need money for two major things: finishing the basement (in order to have enough rooms and beds for all family members), and planning a sweet vacation for our 10 year anniversary (which is this fall). We have the money for neither.

So instead I’m taking a vacation in my head. I’m going thumbing and backpacking through Hawaii with Jason Mraz. And in my mind, I’m already gone. Zoe is jealous that she doesn’t get to go… because she kind of loves him. But this is my vacation, and I’ve decided that it’s going to be kid-free.  But you can come along with me, if you’d like. I’ll hold your hand while we jump off the cliff into the clear water. I promise not to laugh as you sing terribly off-key while Jason plays us a tune on the beach in the light of the camp fire. You can have one of my s’mores, even.

Because frankly, yes, I have been spending way too long checking my tongue in the mirror and bending over backwards just to try to see clearer… so I’m off. See you there.

He lives! And — holy crap — he was even smiling! Smiling because he was happy that it was over and he’s now sworn to never do another century ever in his life. Which was too bad because, while walking to the finish line to wait for him, I passed a cute old couple with a tandem bike. And I’m thinking: oh cute, a tandem bike! Maybe this could be something that Jon and I can do together.  But Jon nipped that right in the bud with a “Well, that was not fun. I can check it off my list and never do it again”. But I believe that the part that made it crappy and “not fun” was the fact that he was riding with some really s-l-o-w guys who think that a century race is a leisurely thing that should be done over the duration of an entire, scorching Saturday… complete with 40 minute lunch breaks and hour-and-a-half tire changes. Bless his heart, Jon stayed with them for eight grueling, sun-burning hours before finally saying to them, “Guys, I’m ready for this to be over”, and he took off and left them. And finished. Finally.

There was plenty of post-race grub. Popscicles, Subway sandwiches, chocolate milk, orange slices. And since most everyone had finished (even old people riding tandem) they didn’t mind that Zoe and Jachin ate most of the left-overs. The kids were hungry, too. It’s hard work standing in the sun, waiting for daddy to cross the finish line.

But he lived through ULCER (the “E”, Jon reminded me, stood for “epic”). And I was actually just kidding about there being a race next month called “CANCER”. Apparently when you try to dead-pan a joke in writing, it looks like you’re just making crap up, like a big fat liar. But either way, one race with a painful name is enough for my hubby for one summer.

He’s promised to take it easy this winter. Re-coup. Be gentle on his body. No Extreme Skiing or Tubing.

But he says that a lot lately. So we’ll see…

I am tired on my husband’s behalf. Tomorrow morning he is doing his first “century race” since taking up biking back in the spring. He kind of traded in running for a bike when he hurt his knee during the Salt Lake City Marathon. Now — after 3 months of diligent biking back and forth to work — he’s decided to go pro and do a century. Yeah, that’s a hundred miles, folks. (Actually, the course is 111 miles… but after a hundred, who’s really counting anymore?) So in honor of his latest athletic undertaking, I “carbed up” on spaghetti for dinner and now I’m conserving energy by sitting lazily in bed. On my fat butt. I do it all for him.

On a slightly hilarious note: the race is called ULCER. (That’s Utah Lake Century Something-or-other Race.) But honestly, could they not come up with an acronym that suggests that riding a bike a hundred miles (until everything from the waist down is numb… and I do mean everything) isn’t going to put you in the hospital? Yeah, Woooo! Come ride the ULCER! And scheduled for next month: the much anticipated CANCER (strangely, all proceeds go to benefit the Left-Handed Poets Society)!

Pics to follow… if I can find the camera charger.

Zoe thinks it’s fascinating how my body is morphing. She hugs and pats my belly, pokes me in my enlarged chest, and all-around treats my body like a freak show in an amusement park.

Last night while I was tucking her in, she said, “Why are your arms getting bigger?”

“Uh-oh, my arms are getting bigger?”

“Yeah, look,” she said, squeezing them, “they are squishier.”

“Oh great. That shouldn’t be happening,” I said, making a mental note to beef up the yoga routines.

“Is there milk in your arms, too?” she asked, still squeezing my arms, much like one would milk a cow.

“No, honey. There’s no milk in my arms.”

“How does milk get into your boobs?”

“Ummm, I don’t really know. There are glands in there that make it somehow. But I don’t know how. Bodies are very scientific.”

“Cuz that would be good if you had milk in your arms, too. Then when the milk in your boobs runs out, you could just squeeze your arms and the milk would go up your arms and back down into your boobs.” And here she traces the path up my arms and over my shoulders and back down to my chest. Where she does a solid poke with her finger.

“Yeah, ummm, that would be a cool trick.”

“So why doesn’t that happen?”

“I just don’t know.”

She sighed and dropped my squishy arm. “Man, bodies really are very scientific.”

It’s an upgrade to think about:

lactating biceps = reserve tank

Bad Mom always has the most fun little memes on her blog. I ripped off borrowed another one from her, even though I wasn’t technically “tagged”. That doesn’t stop me from getting in on all the fun, no sir-ee.

So the idea is to link to the person who tagged you, then list six quirky, yet unimpressive things about yourself. Then tag six more people to hop on the quirky madness train!

Here goes:

1) I love Star Trek: The Next Generation. I can answer almost any trivia about the show, even going so far as to being able to match plots with the episode names. It’s a sickness, really. As a side note: We have a hilarious picture somewhere (lost in the basement) that was taken in Vegas with Jon and me (while pregnant) standing on the “transporter platform”, holding phasers at the ready (don’t worry, they were only set to stun, so as not to cause harm to the fetus-Jachin.).

2) I love to have my back scratched… much like a dog and his ears. If a car-jacker were to scratch my back long enough, I would happily just hand over the keys to my car. And then offer to drive him wherever he needs to go if he’ll just keep scratching.

3) I have to Q-tip my ears everyday. It bugs the crap out of me all day if I somehow miss a day… which doesn’t happen very often.

4) I’ve been “writing a novel” since the age of 25, and have yet to finish one. (Because one novel puttered out and turned into another one… and so on.) I don’t know if that’s really “quirky”, but it’s certainly unimpressive.

5) I have always, always wanted to be in a martial arts movie… well, ever since the original Mortal Kombat movie. I took a kickboxing class for a while, which is why — in my deranged mind — I feel like it’s maybe do-able. (Though if you ever actually watched me “in action”, it’s just frickin hilarious.) And ever since the release of The Transporter, I hope that my movie will also include a love scene with Jason Statham. And no, I don’t see how being pregnant should altar the fighting or love scenes. (And also: the movie should have at least one scene with me break-dancing, because I imagine that I do that well, too.)

6) I love Target, but I hate Wal-Mart — even though in many ways they are pretty much the same store. Still, I will make up reasons to go to Target, and fake illnesses and car trouble to avoid going to Wal-Mart.

That’s all I’m admitting to tonight. I won’t tag anyone, but if you’d like to play along, feel free. And I’ll leave you with this:

Mmmm, fight scenes…